The Girl Who Fell
by Yunagirlamy
Summary: Her father was a doctor. Her mother was a doctor, too, of archeology. She was a greeting cards designer. Her parents, those two psychopaths, were the most remarkable people. She wasn't. A collection of (mostly) slice of life stories.
1. The Chocolate Milkshake

**The Chocolate Milkshake**

Having a nine-to-five job was, by all human standards, completely normal.

And yet, as she walked to work in her denim shorts and high-top black plimsolls, she felt completely out of place. It wasn't as though she particularly stood out, what with her brown hair, blue eyes and fair skin to consider. She appeared, to any person who might throw her a quick glance, the most average girl, just making her way up the high street.

It wasn't even the fact that her West Midlands regional accent (it's what most people had said she possessed, anyway) stood out like a sore thumb in London. It wasn't a thousand other reasons that she could list.

It was that she felt she didn't deserve to be there. She'd only got the job in the first place due to outside forces that insisted on interfering, and it wasn't as she if had any power against them.

At first, the job had been fairly easy, but fairly boring; making tea and coffee and doing the 'cake run' wasn't challenging by any means—but a job was a job, and it kept her from going crazy from being alone at home. Her grandparents had jobs of their own and were too busy to look after their definitely-old-enough-to-look-after-herself granddaughter.

Then one day, while bored and with nothing else to do, she had found herself doodling in the notebook she had bought the day before because she had found herself in that situation before.

"That's really, really good, Ash," said an impressed and surprised voice from over her shoulder. Ash smiled politely at her boss.

"Thanks, Beth." She would have continued with her doodles if it were not for Beth snatching up the piece of paper, fascination etched across her features.

"These are greeting card designs, right?" Ash tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"... Yeah," she shyly replied. There were a few moments of—awkward, Ash had thought—silence as Beth studied the drawings. Then, Beth said something that completely threw Ash for a loop.

"How would you like to try your hand at designing greeting cards?"

That was how Ash now found herself walking to work, on the way for a trial run. It was to last a couple of weeks, and Ash would be designing hypothetical greeting cards to see how she did. Then, her designs would be tested with some members of the public. If her designs were liked well enough then she would be promoted from 'tea girl' to 'card designer'.

Ash didn't feel it was fair to the other card designers. They had probably worked really hard to get their job, and here she was, just waltzing in and practically being offered it on a plate after she had doodled when she was bored. She didn't even have any aspirations to design cards, not really. Didn't that make her the wrong person for the job?

Nonetheless, Ash was not ungrateful and she was going to take the opportunity she had been graciously offered. Even if she didn't pass the trial it was still going to be more enjoyable than making tea and coffee.

She entered the office building where the company was situated and made her way up the two flights of stairs to the space the company occupied.

It was a standard office space, except the usual rows of desks and borders to separate them had been removed in favour of a more open office space. Tables, ranging in size and colour, had been placed around the room with very comfortable chairs to accompany. In the corner was a coffee table and sofa for the person who was not so sociable, to make them comfortable, and this was were Ash could usually be found, reading a book, nursing a hot chocolate, if she was not in the kitchen.

As expected, it was only Beth here this early and she never liked to make her employees start work before nine in the morning. It was to "keep up employee moral", she had claimed. It was only a quarter to eight, so Ash headed straight for the small, but separate kitchen space.

Ash grabbed the full-fat milk and she cringed at the mug her dad had bought her upon hearing she'd got a job. It was purple and sparkly, with white, cartoon-style smiling unicorns splashed all over the mug with the words "CONGRATULATIONS" in a white and big font across the front. Fortunately, she worked mostly with millennials so the general consensus was that the mug was "cute".

Her dad, despite not living with her, would know if she didn't use it at work. He had his ways.

Full-fat milk in the cringe-inducing mug, Ash popped it into the microwave and set it for two minutes. It was bizarre, how long two minutes felt when you were waiting for a microwave to finish. In such moments Ash engaged in a pastime she fondly called "Human Watching".

A smile touched her lips as she gazed out of the window to the ground below. Adults dressed in business attire were, presumably, heading to work while kids in school uniform, some tidy, some messy, were heading to the prison cell they were required by law to attend. Ash was always thankful she had never been forced into school, even when she wasn't living with any of her family members.

"Bit early for hot chocolate, isn't it?" Ash didn't turn as the voice fondly mocked her. The owner of the voice came to stand by her side. Ash stiffened up and had to force her eyes to stay trained on the humans down below.

Katie Morgan was a mixed-race girl, though many people would assume she was only Chinese upon looking at her. Katie had, in fact, been born and raised in Swansea to a Welsh father and a Chinese mother. She looked the epitome of a Chinese girl, with her black, short hair and her dark eyes and the face that Ash assumed she had inherited from her mother, but otherwise, she was the most Welsh person from Wales Ash had ever known. Katie's Welsh accent, though not from the countryside, was incredibly thick.

Ash felt so boring compared to Katie. She was incredibly average looking, with the most boring features known to man with a doctor and an archaeologist for parents, whom she scarcely saw anyway; and when she did they were there to see her grandparents most of the time. She was so average even her parents didn't bother with her most of the time. She had no idea what Katie's parents did (and Katie's mother lived in China so she'd probably never know what she did) but whatever they did, it was probably a lot cooler.

She allowed herself a side glance at Katie; today she wore a pale blue t-shirt with white shorts and summer sandals attached to her feet. Her face was made up almost perfectly and her hair in loose curls. Even how Katie presented herself blew her out of the water. Ash never did anything with her hair other than have it trimmed occasionally.

"Everyone looks so gloomy," Katie commented. "It's nearly the summer holidays, miserable sods." She turned to Ash, smiling. "How are you this morning? You all right?"

"I'm good." Ash didn't sound like she was, but she definitely was. She was more than all right now. "You okay?" Katie went digging into her backpack and produced two chicken and cheese paninis.

"My dad bought these for us this morning so yep!" Ash cursed inwardly at herself for being weak as she finally turned her eyes upon Katie and accepted the microwaveable and high in saturated fats sandwich from her colleague.

"Your dad is literally the nicest dad ever," Ash stated. A few seconds of rapid beeps, then, from the microwave let Ash know the milk was done. She took out the mug and gestured for Katie to use it first.

"I know, but please don't actually say that to his face," said Katie. She unwrapped the panini and placed into the microwave. "He'll be so smug. Too smug."

"Do all Welsh people get smug when you tell them they're nice?" Ash asked.

"No, we only get smug when we have sunshine and England doesn't. Hey, it's the start of your trial today, right? Looking forward to it?" Ash shrugged.

"I suppose so, yeah." She had been awake through the night making different card designs. She wasn't actually looking forward to it but she was determined to impress.

She'd only known Katie for two months but Katie saw right through her. The Welsh woman frowned and closed the small distance between them. Ash's lips went thin, her cheeks red and she refused to look Katie right in the eye.

"C'mon, tell me what's wrong. I know you, Ash, something is definitely wrong." Ash shook her head and moved away from Katie, taking a sip of her hot (very hot) chocolate.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Had her years and years of experience of lying made her any better at it?

"Oh, Ash." With absolutely no warning at all, Katie pulled Ash towards her and enveloped her in a warm hug. Ash was quick thinking and placed her mug down. "It's okay. I know you're still a bit shy around us." Katie pulled back and Ash was thankful Katie gave no reaction to Ash's reddened face. "We're your friends here."

Ash didn't know how to respond. All the people she had known over the years, and she was still a socially awkward mess. At least around people she knew. She was strangely fine with people she knew she'd never speak to again. "Erm…"

"Hey, why don't you come out with us tonight? Me, Becky and Hannah are going to the cinema and then for something to eat. " Katie held Ash by the shoulders and smiled and raised her eyebrows in an encouraging manner. "I'll buy you a driiink…"

Ash sighed through her nose. She was old enough to know when she had been defeated. "All right."

* * *

Work had been… interesting. Ash had thought that at the moment Beth asked her to think up some card designs - one for a birthday, one for congratulations for getting married and one for an anniversary - that she would freeze.

But, she didn't. To Ash's surprise she actually found it easy to think up some designs for the cards she had been tasked to and when it came to the end of the workday Ash had found herself disappointed she to stop. The tap of card designs had been turned on in her mind and it would not stop flowing. She would have to doodle them all as soon as she got home because now she couldn't.

Now she was walking out of the cinema with three of her work colleagues, silent at the back of the group as they laughed and talked amongst themselves about the terrible romance comedy they just put subjected themselves to. Ash wasn't being pushed out; she just didn't want to talk. She had seen the film already and had nothing to add to the conversation that hadn't already been said. Nonetheless, it was apparent that Katie had decided she did.

Katie fell back to step in line with the brown-haired girl and linked her arm affectionately with Ash's. Ash forced herself to resist tensing up.

"What did you think, then? Pretty rubbish, wasn't it?" Ash had definitely seen worse, much much worse over her many years. But she nodded anyway.

"Yeah. The music score in it was terrible." Katie furrowed her brows and appeared amused.

"You paid more attention to the music score? Have you seen this already? Or do you have a music degree I have no idea about?"

"No and no," Ash replied. "But my dad does. Have a music degree, that is." He probably did. She made a mental note to ask him when she next saw him. Trouble was—she had no idea when that was. He turned up whenever he felt like it without bothering to check first. Katie gave a noise of acceptance.

"Well, listening out for the score was probably better than concentrating on the film. It was a good laugh, though." Katie softly nudged Ash. "Thought about what drink you want?" Ash opened her mouth but Katie cut in. "And don't say hot chocolate. You drink enough of it at work as it is. You probably drink it by the gallons at home."

Ash's cheeks flushed. How was it that Katie knew her so well? "Meanie. What about a milkshake, then? Is that acceptable?" Katie raised an eyebrow.

"Would it happen to be chocolate?" she asked teasingly. Ash wondered if she would ever stop blushing when Katie revealed she could always, always see right through her. Nonetheless, she never minded giving Katie the satisfaction of being right.

"Yes." Katie smiled. It almost looked like a fond smile to Ash.

"Then a chocolate milkshake you shall get."

The group turned into a restaurant that touted itself as an Italian-American restaurant, though Ash could not identify anything that even whispered this. It looked like a restaurant trying too hard to convince people it was Italian-American.

"You figured it out, too, right?" Katie whispered to Ash, who had a mildly confused look on her face.

"That they're not Italian or American?" Ash asked. Katie nodded.

"I looked them up a few weeks ago. They're British ." Then she shrugged and smiled. "Bloody great food, though." Ash found Katie's smile infectious and returned it.

The group of four were seated in a rounded booth table, with Ash in the middle with Katie to her left, Hannah to her right and Becky on the end. Ash went to pick up a menu but Katie patted the small space next to her.

"Ash, Ash, come here. I'm too fussy when it comes to food, you can help me pick." Ash decided not to voice that no one was more indecisive over food than she was. It drove her father up the wall. She tried not to smirk at the thought of annoying her father.

"Oi, don't smirk at me," Katie reprimanded but a smirk was curling up her lips upwards, too. "Come on, then, what's so funny?" she asked as Ash closer to her. Katie shifted so that they were touching shoulders.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking of all the times I've annoyed my dad." Katie's eyes twinkled with a mischievous understanding.

"What else are dad's for?" Ash wholeheartedly agreed.

"Actually, Ash, what does your dad do?" Becky asked, and she looked intensely interested. So did Hannah. Ash wasn't used to such attention and her mouth went dry.

"Erm, erm," she stammered. "He's a doctor."

"Really?" Katie said. "You never said before. Is that why you never see him?" Ash knew that revealing the real reason why she hardly ever saw her father would make him out to be a very selfish man.

"No, no, I see him," she replied defensively, but in a friendly manner. "He works a lot, to make sure I'm fine." Katie frowned.

"Then he's missing what's right in front of him, frankly." She rubbed Ash's arm. "Don't worry, Ash; if I ever see your dad I'll make sure to give him a good kick up the arse and tell what a great kid he's missing out on."

"Yeah, it's not right of him," added Becky.

"He doesn't deserve you," said Hannah. Her father didn't deserve her? No, that was entirely wrong. It was the other way around; she didn't deserve him. Ash felt tears prick at the back of her eyes and suddenly she had an overwhelming urge to be embraced by her father.

Becky and Hannah grew quiet as they looked over their menus. Katie picked up a menu and held it so she and Ash could scour over it.

"I think maybe I'm in the mood for pasta." Katie paused and pursed her lips. "Then again… maybe not." She glanced at Ash. "What do you feel like?" Ash flipped the menu and quickly studied the food on offer.

"How about sharing a pizza?" Katie instantly grinned and she shut the menu.

"That's an excellent idea."

* * *

The bill paid and their stomachs full of fatty but delicious food (they may have been fraudulent with their identity but Ash didn't care anymore because of the gorgeous food), the four of them said their goodbyes and vowed to see each other the next day at work. Ash, though she was smiling, was sad that it was over. It had been months since she had been out with someone that wasn't her grandparents or her parents.

The delight as their pizza came out to them, Katie eating so messily she got tomato puree on her arm, Becky and Hannah laughing merrily, and the look on Katie's face when she saw how Ash's eyes lit up at the chocolate milkshake—Ash would treasure those memories for the rest of her life, no matter how long it turned out to be. In later years it would be a source of massive comfort to her.

She almost didn't want to go home to her grandparents. Her grandmother could be overprotective, and Ash knew she would certainly be interrogated over where she had been. Her grandfather was just as protective, but he wasn't as loud and brash with it.

Ash turned the corner, her steps slow as she inevitably neared her home.

… How long had she been referring to that house as home? She decided it didn't matter, it was her home for the foreseeable future.

And then arms shot out and grabbed her by the midsection, dragging the girl off into a dark alleyway.


	2. A Tired Little Town

**Warning: contains violence and descriptions of blood.**

 **A Tired Little Town**

Two _years_. It had been two _whole years_ since she had stepped foot on the TARDIS.

The place had not changed; it was still that magnificent orange she imagined the skies of Gallifrey were. The floor was glass underneath her feet, allowing an easy view of the underside of the console of this wonderful place she once called home. She glanced over to the stairs, and she could picture herself running and jumping down the stairs, sporting a wide grin.

That was not her life now. She would never have imagined she would feel like a stranger here, but she did and she stood away from the console, out of the way of Dad, her chin close to her chest and her arms folded over her chest. Ash swore to herself she would hate Dad for making her feel so awkward, but she knew she'd never be able to hold herself to it.

On the opposite side of the console, Dad poked his head up at her, his forehead creased and brows knitted together.

"Ashleigh?" he said, moving around the console to be closer. "Is something the matter?" There was the full name. It meant her dad was either worried or angry with her. Ash didn't think it was anger. Not on _his_ side. Ash looked up and locked her blue eyes with his green ones and set her lips in a thin, tight line.

"Yes, Dad, something _is_ the matter." When those arms had slipped around her waist and begun to drag her away, she had to confront the fear that she would never see her family, _or Katie_ , ever again. At that moment, her life as she knew it was over. Ashleigh clenched her fists.

"You basically kidnapped me and that's _not_ okay," she reprimanded. Tears pricked the back of her eyes and made her voice wobble. Dad's jaw gaped, and he came over to her and enveloped her into a warm, paternal hug.

"I'm sorry," her father whispered, smoothing her hair as he gently rocked her. "I didn't—I wasn't." He swallowed. "I wasn't thinking about how it would make you feel, Ash." His hold tightened. "I'm sorry." Ash truly believed him.

"It's okay, really." Her stomach twinged; now she had caused him to feel guilty. Dad pulled away and he tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"I couldn't help myself," he explained. "I waited all day to see you. I knew you had work, I didn't want to take you before then." Ash squinted at her father.

"... It's a _time_ machine." Dad chuckled and he kissed her on the forehead.

"And if I'd picked you up before, and we had some great, big adventure—and I'm not saying we will," he hastily added as she grinned, "but just imagine if we went on an adventure, and then I dropped you back off and you went to work in an office." Ash drew her shoulders together.

"I _like_ my job."

"All you do is make tea. That's not terribly captivating, is it? It would bore me to death!" Ash opened her mouth to tell him about the possible promotion, but then she thought better of it and only shrugged.

"It doesn't bore me. It's better than doing nothing." Cleaning the house from top to bottom was a task she could do only so many times in one day. Nonetheless, she had to admit her job wasn't the most exciting subject to be discussing. Ash cocked her head and gave her dad a quizzical smile.

"So we _are_ going somewhere? You're not just dropping in?"

"Yes!" Dad replied, almost sounding offended. "If I only wanted to see you I'd go to the house." He planted another kiss on her forehead and ran to the console. Ash raised her eyebrows, arms folded.

"... Why _didn't_ you go to the house?" Her father didn't answer, messing with the console. Ash's eyes lit up and her mouth formed an 'O' shape.

"Oh! You didn't want Amy and Rory knowing!" she accused.

"You don't call them Grandma and Granddad?" Dad questioned, smiling with amusement. It was clear he was warding off the question, but Ash decided she would entertain him.

"Because I'm older than the both of them put together," she reminded him. "It'd be too weird."

"Fair enough," Dad conceded. He squinted at her and then waved a hand at her. "Why don't you change? You probably want to get out of those clothes."

"All right," said Ash as she moved, "but you're not avoiding the question when I come back." Dad made a strangled noise of protest, and Ash smirked as she left.

The corridors were still a brilliant, sheen white with angular walls. Ash moved her hand along the wall; her eyes crinkled at the touch. The walls were still cold. Ash imagined the walls in science labs weren't much different.

They hadn't always been so uninviting. Ash paused and closed her eyes. She could still recall the lush crimson walls, adorned with many a classic painting and the soft carpet she would repeatedly stroll barefoot upon, even though her father had requested her not to. Opening her eyes again, Ash pressed her lips together. She shook her head and forced her eyes forward.

Locating the way to her former room wasn't complicated; though, Ash suspected that the TARDIS had helped her. Regardless of whether her theory held any certainty to it, the Gallifreyan caressed her hand on the wall and looked upwards as she praised the living ship. Something warm engulfed her.

Standing before her door once more was strange. Its mahogany surface stood out against the white walls as though it had belonged to an older house and the walls built up around it. That might as well have been the truth. Ash had half expected her father to have changed her door in the two years since she'd been here last. She raised her hand slowly and pushed open the door.

Once upon a time, her room had looked warm and homely. Now the spacious, spotless room only appeared foreign to her. The cream walls, the white floor with the faux fur rug in the centre, the baroque dresser, the four-poster bed with the sheer drapes, and even the big screen TV—they were hers.

With her shoulders drawn together and her arms wrapped around herself, Ash shuffled over to the dresser. She kept her eyes forward. She didn't wish to violate the privacy of the girl who had once lived here.

The brown-haired Gallifreyan pulled open the dresser drawer and peered in; inside, a collection of clothes she hadn't given any thought to in the last two years. Dad had given her the clothes she fondly wore. Ash wrinkled her nose as a thought struck her.

Why hadn't Dad handed _all_ of her clothes over?

 _"You're doing this to get rid of me, aren't you?"_

 _"No. I'm doing this to save you."_

Ash had assumed that meant she would never lay her blue eyes upon the TARDIS ever again (and she had taken great care to sear the image of the TARDIS into her retinas) but now she had been proven wrong. It _still_ made little sense, however.

 _"I know why you left me with Amy and Rory. It's because you knew you were dying, wasn't it? You didn't want me to know you were dying because you knew I'd try to stop it."_

 _"No, Ashleigh. You're wrong. I'm sorry."_

He never explained why she was wrong. There hadn't been time. It had leaked out, causing time to happen all at once and _her own dad_ had to die to stop it.

Ash picked out a dress without giving it thought, a white shirtdress, and hastily changed into it, putting her phone in the pocket over her breast. Her lips in a thin line, her brows furrowed, Ash stormed of the alien room wearing the alien dress and burst down the corridor. She rounded the corner into the console room, blue eyes grim and her mouth open, ready to grill her father—her face relaxed and the harsh look in her eyes vanished.

"Mum!"

* * *

"This is nice, isn't it?" Ash shot a bored expression to her father.

"Sure, Dad."

Dad was sitting back in a wooden chair, his hands clasped together and one leg over the other. He cast a satisfied glance over his surroundings. Ash did not afford it the same luxury. She fixed her father with a glazed over stare, slouching with her chin resting in her palm.

It wasn't as though the town wasn't pretty. In fact, it was gorgeous—and one would expect a planet that tried to replicate the entirety of Italy to be so—but that's all it was. Ash suppressed a sigh and straightened her back. It wasn't the town's fault that _her parents_ had decided on a place that seemed as old as most of its residents.

A _tired little town_ was the perfect choice to come from her adventurous, daring and diving headfirst into trouble while cackling parents!

"What's wrong with your tea?" Ash rolled her eyes.

"Dad, I still don't like tea." Dad pulled a disgruntled face.

"I thought you'd be out of that phase by now."

"Dad, it's not a—"

"Here we are!" Mum came from the small café carrying three sundaes, one considerably higher than the other two. Mum placed it in front of Dad, who rubbed his hands in glee and smiled childishly. Despite herself, Ash felt her lips twitching upwards.

"Thanks, Mum," Ash said.

"You're welcome, darling." Mum's eyes fell on her husband and she groaned. "Do you have to eat it like that? Show manners in front of our daughter." Dad swallowed his ice-cream, innocent eyes darting to his daughter.

"Why? She's not copying me." Mum frowned and leant across the table to put the back of her hand to her daughter's forehead. Her frown deepened as she pulled it back.

"You don't feel ill. Are you okay, Ashleigh?" Ash lightly shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're not pigging out like your father. You haven't touched your ice-cream." Another shrug.

"I'm not that hungry." It wasn't a lie. The pizza was still settling in her stomach and Ash was confident she'd not be able to handle a sundae right now. She hadn't asked for the sundae.

Mum stared at her daughter, and then tugged on her husband's tweed jacket sleeve. He had returned his attention back on his ice-cream and was too busy devouring it to take any notice. Mum tugged again, noticeably _harder_ this time and Dad looked up, brows together in a scowl.

"What?" he demanded.

Mum's eyes never left her daughter. "Ashleigh, Mummy and Daddy have to talk, _in private_ , inside the TARDIS."

"... Mum, I'm older than you." Ash immediately grimaced. That was another sentence to add to the list of _Things to Never Say to Your Mother_. Her parents fell into silence, staring at her with a mix of disbelief and disappointment. Ash pinched her nose.

"Look, just ignore that," she said. "Go and have your talk."

" _Don't_ wander off," Dad warned as he stood, emphasising his warning with a stern point of his finger.

"I'm not a little girl, Dad. I know."

"Yes, you are," Dad told her and he kissed her on the forehead, and strolled hand in hand with his wife back to his TARDIS. Ash observed them with a hint of a smile. Once the TARDIS doors had closed behind her parents, Ashleigh swept the town square with a sceptical gaze.

It had a cobbled ground, cute cottages with vines crawling up and thatch roofs, a hooded figure limping across the square, a simple but beautiful fountain sat right in the centre— _wait_.

The young Gallifreyan shot from her chair with such ferocity it crashed to the floor, a heavy _bang_ reverberating throughout the area. The hooded figure stared, revealing herself to be a woman and for a minute Ash and the hooded girl locked eyes with each other.

Her face was pale, her jaw trembling. Ash stepped forward, and the girl bolted in the opposite direction down an alleyway.

"W- _Wait_!" Ash cried, and she broke into a run after the adolescent. She pursued her through the alleyway into a slender street, Italian Renaissance styled houses either side of the cobbled ground; Ash created a mental note to return and appreciate the beauty of the secluded street as she tore after the limping girl. How was a limping girl this fast, anyhow? Ash was grateful she hadn't needed to change into a long skirt or dress.

As the chase continued through the long street Ash's hearts thumped in her rib cage, her lips were curling up into a smile and her blue eyes gleamed. Adrenaline pumped through every vein in her body, fuelling the excitement with which she ran.

Eventually, as it was always going to, the pursuit fell to a slow finish. The crippled girl fell down onto a bench beside a stream, clutching her abdomen as she exhaled deeply. Ash stood over her, her expression of excitement now appropriately swapped for one of concern.

The girl had black skin, delicate blond hair tucked into her hood, and her eyes were a murky grey. The hooded jacket was not baggy, and she wore dark skinny jeans revealing she was of a slim physique. Ash estimated the girl was a foot taller than she was.

"Are you okay?" The girl pressed her lips together firmly and squinted at her pursuer.

"H-How are… how are you not e-even a _little_ out of… b-breath?" she demanded through pants. As predicted, she spoke with a heavy Italian accent.

"I'm used to running." Ash placed herself next to the girl who pushed herself away. The Gallifreyan gave her a friendly smile. "What's your name?" The silvery eyes narrowed.

"I-I'm n… not t-telling someone who _c-chased_ me my _name_!" Ash's cheeks twitched with a smile.

"That's fair enough." She outstretched her hand. "I'm Ashleigh Pond, but only my mum and dad call me Ashleigh. Call me Ash." The young woman regarded the hand carefully like it was a beast ready to eat her.

"... You're not from around here." Ash sat up straight.

"Was it the accent that gave it away? My dad is always telling me it's weird." The girl shook her head.

"No. Offering your hand to someone here means you think little of them and you wish to transfer any disease or sickness you may have to them." Ash retracted her hand and wiped it on her dress.

"Sorry. How do you greet someone here?" A trace of laughter touched the girl's features.

"We say hello." She eyed Ash again. " _Where_ are you from?" The Gallifreyan inclined her head, pressing her lips together.

"... Earth."

"Are you sure about that?" Ash considered it.

"... Pretty sure. How come you're not surprised I'm from another planet?" The girl's eyes expanded and she shot back from Ash.

"You're from another planet?! I thought you meant the village called Earth near here!" Ash's mouth hung wide and her ears burnt with heat.

"... O-Oh." The girl stared at her before bursting into loud giggles.

"Your face! Does your dad usually mention you're easy to mess with?" Ash maintained silence and locked her eyes on her palms as she blushed.

"We have loads of aliens here, especially people from Earth." A slight grin twisted her mouth. "I was joking before." Ash furrowed her eyebrows at her. "About the hand thing? It _was_ your accent that gave it away."

"Who were you running from?" Ash asked. The girl's eyes turned grim.

"Is that why you chased me?" Her tone had switched from jovial to bitter. "Just to stick your nose in _my_ business?"

"Yes," Ash bluntly affirmed, and she scratched the back of her skull. "My dad and I are kind of professionals at it. But I mostly wanted to confirm you were okay." The girl chuckled dryly.

"So you caused a limping girl to run." Silence settled between them, either girl refusing to establish eye contact. Ash was not leaving soon—and both girls knew it.

"My dad and I had an argument," the girl relented. "I want to move out, get my own place but my dad absolutely forbids it. We argued and argued until he…" She exhaled a weighty sigh and reached down to rub her shin. "He pushed me downstairs."

"Oh, my gosh!" Ash exclaimed, eyes bulging out of her sockets. "Your dad pushed you?!" The girl nodded, a frown settling on her features. With no verbal warning, Ash's arms were around the girl comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry your dad isn't good at being a dad." The girl drew back as though Ash had scorched her.

"Don't talk about my dad in that way," she snapped. "He's a _good_ dad. He gets overprotective."

"So does my dad but he's never pushed me downstairs." The worst Ash had suffered from her father were a few smacks when she was much, _much_ younger and when she had put her life in danger. He still threatened it from time to time but he had yet to follow through with it. Ash knew he never would.

"Can you leave me alone now, please? You've stuck your stupid nose thoroughly into my business now. Tell your _perfect_ dad all about it."

"No," Ash replied. "You're in pain, and I am _not_ —"

"I lied."

"... What do you mean?" Ash asked carefully. What else was left to lie about?

"My dad didn't push me down the stairs." The girl exhaled. "I only said it to make you go away. I argued with him, though."

"Oh, I'm glad he didn't push you," said Ash, but she wasn't convinced. She wasn't sure what to believe from this girl. "He… didn't hurt you another way, did he?"

"No." The word easily slipped from the girl's mouth. "My dad has never hit me, not even when I've done stupid stuff. He is way too overprotective. Dad hates it when he can't see me. He's terrified that something will happen." Ash's eyes wandered down to the girl's crippled limb, inspecting it like it was fraudulent.

"Then how did you…?"

"Overexertion," was the retort. "I run, a _lot_."

"How do I know it's not another lie and your dad _really_ pushed you?" Ash asked.

"You don't."

"Why did you say it in the _first_ place?"

"Because I hoped you'd leave me alone," snapped the girl. "I could _make_ you leave if I wanted to. You're what, five foot? You look weak."

"I'm Gallifreyan, I'm not weak," Ash countered. The girl's head snapped to Ash.

"You're _what_? You said you were from Earth!" The girl ran her eyes furiously up and down Ash. "Last time I checked, _Time Lords_ weren't from Earth." She hissed her words out, her eyes blazing with disgust as she stared upon the Gallifreyan. Ash tried her best to splutter out an explanation, as the girl's contempt for Time Lords could only be for one reason, but the girl jabbed a finger in her face and propelled herself up.

" _L_ _eave me alone_!" the girl shrieked. "I want nothing to do with your kind! Time Lords near damn destroyed the universe and I will _not_ let one anywhere near me!" Alarmed by the commotion, crowds gawked and crawled out of their homes like lice out of wood.

The girl thrust her finger accusingly at Ashleigh, who had risen by now and was holding her hands up defensively. Her breathing was accelerating and tears stung in her eyes. The world was closing in on her.

"This _thing_ is a _Time Lord_!" The girl bellowed, and the crowd gasped in fright and erupted in anger.

"Time Lord _scum_!" a man yelled.

"How dare you show your face around here!" yelled a woman.

"You should have died with the rest of those vermin!" The crowd circled around her. Ash took a step backwards but someone roughly shoved her away from them. The girl Ashleigh had followed now had a smug smirk, hatred sparkling in her eyes.

"This _thing_ chased me down and then threatened my life and that of my father's!" The words slipped easily from the girl's mouth.

"No, that's not—" Ash's protests stuck in her throat as a sharp pain erupted in her forehead. Everything went silent, Ash and the crowd staring at each other with wide eyes. Then, everything happened all at once. Her injury was the green light the crowd needed to overpower the five-foot tall girl, forcing her onto her back. Her injury was the green light the crowd needed to overpower the five-foot tall girl, forcing her onto her back.

The young Gallifreyan (and compared to her father she was _incredibly_ young) had lived for over two hundred years, but this was the first time she had ever been beaten by an angry mob. She didn't try to defend herself. All she could do was lie there and take it. Multiple people were kicking at her stomach, legs and arms. Thankfully, they left her head alone. Even a crowd with nothing but hatred for her knew better than to risk giving her brain damage.

The pain wasn't on her mind. Nor was she calling out to her parents to come and find her. If they had wanted to, they would have done so ages ago. She wasn't even thinking of her grandparents, of Amy and Rory.

She was thinking of a British girl who looked Chinese and spoke with the thickest Welsh accent.

At some point, and Ash hadn't been counting the minutes to know when, the crowd just… _stopped_. She was bruised to their satisfaction. The girl stepped forward, only disgust upon her face.

"See? You're not wanted here," the girl sneered. "Get _out of here_ before you get hurt even more."

Ash didn't remember running to the TARDIS. She didn't remember fleeing, running for her life to the home she had once known, her curly brown locks nearly whipping the face of a child. She _couldn't_ remember fumbling for her key from around her neck and then her hands trembling violently as she tried to put the key in the lock.

But she did remember falling through the door, the railing the only reason she didn't smash her face into the stairs. She did remember stumbling up the stairs, each step a painful reminder of her beating. She could remember reaching the console and falling on her knees, her legs tucked underneath.

And then finally, Ash broke into heavy sobs. Half of her tears were for the brutal pain tearing through her body. Sitting on the cold floor of the console room was the same as sitting on hot coals right now. Her legs were begging to be free of the torture she was forcing them through. Despite her agony, Ash couldn't force herself to be furious with the crowd. It wasn't their fault they were scared of her.

The TARDIS doors burst open, and in stormed her father with a thunderous expression.

"Ashleigh Pond, _I told you_ —"

 _It was his._

Dad dashed up to her, the thunderous expression now one of outrage and paternal anguish.

"What _happened_ to you?!" He knelt by her, his hands twitching to grab her but wavering. "Did you fall o-or—"

"Oh, my _God_!" Ash's eyes shot over at her mother who had just entered the TARDIS. Mum was by her daughter in moments and unlike Dad, she had no apprehensions about drawing her daughter into her arms. Ash bit her lip so she wouldn't wince and wept softly into her mother's chest. "You tell me who did this to you. I have a _very_ shiny gun they'll become friends with."

" _River_ ," said Dad in a warning manner, his face grim. "You know that won't help." Her parents settled into silence, their eyes latched on each other.

"... Fine." Mum released Ash from her embrace, her eyes back on her daughter now. "Ashleigh, if you don't want to tell us what happened, that's fine. If you do, I won't—"

"It was a crowd." Ash's voice was hushed, but it had a pointed edge to it. "This world hates _Time Lords_." Her eyes cut into her father and Dad flinched. "They assume I am one so a crowd beat me." She didn't want to feel satisfied at the manner in which her father's face dropped, the way he couldn't look her straight in the eyes. But she did anyway, and she basked in it.

"Come on," her father murmured, reaching out to hold her bridal style, "that wound on your head looks nasty. I'll stitch it up for you."

* * *

"Stop touching it," her father admonished. Ash's finger threatened to touch the stitch anyway and Dad lightly smacked her hand. "Oi, I said _stop_." Ashleigh rubbed her smacked hand.

"What should I tell Amy and Rory?" she asked. Dad's nose scrunched up as he dried his palms clean.

" _Tell them_? Are you out of your mind?" Ash gawked at her father.

"... No. I want to go home." Dad looked like someone had stabbed him numerous times.

"You _ar_ e home," he declared. He had a strong clutch on his towel. Ash bowed her head.

"N-No, but… you will still leave me back on Earth, won't you?" Dad didn't reply and turned away.

"It's fine, Dad," Ash said. "I _want_ to go back to Earth." _I have a reason to go back to Earth._ Dad spun back to her, showing her an undeniable forced smile.

"Yeah, but it won't hurt to stay a few weeks with your old dad, will it?"

"... No." Ash spoke without thinking. _Except for when an irate crowd beats me for the crime of being a Time Lord, something which is your fault._ "It'll be fun," she added.

It had been two whole years since she was last on the TARDIS, but she could still be happy onboard.

Couldn't she?

 **A/N: Hi there! First of all, thanks for reading this story so far, it means a lot to me! Secondly—chapter two was planned and still nearly took a** _ **month**_ **, and I'm not quite sure how chapter three will go so it's probably best** _ **not**_ **to expect it this month (September) or early October. Thirdly, have a great day!**


	3. Ashes to Ashes

**Ashes to Ashes**

Plenty of bed rest was Dad's order. It was doubtful he meant the sofa in her favourite drawing room.

Dad had carried her to _'her'_ bedroom and laid her down delicately on the bed, despite her frail protests of _'Dad, I'm fine to walk'._ Ash had appreciated it, but as soon as Dad had left (an agonising thirty-six minutes later) Ash had retreated to the much more comfortable drawing room.

It was a room left behind from the TARDIS she knew as a child until she was seven years old. It was a room precious to Ash. She and her father—her _original_ father, not the man he was now—spent many hours in there, cuddled up together and reading a book. Initially, the memories had been warm like the roaring fire by the sofa.

But ultimately, the fire died down until there was nought left but the bitter cold. Ash couldn't stand it and left.

Her next destination was the kitchen. It was one of the many kitchens on the TARDIS, but this one was her favourite. It was modest but not cramped and the cream walls gave a tender and cosy ambience. But she had no time to stop and savour it. She was a woman on a _mission_ , and she promptly made a beeline for a cupboard.

It had been at _least_ four hours since her last hot chocolate, and that was virtually comparable to torture. The chocolate milkshake Katie had bought was like something offered by The Chocolate Gods themselves, but it would never stand up to the velvet rich flavour that hot chocolate gave her. Each sip was a slice of heaven if heaven was made up of the richest chocolate that existed.

She took a large mug and opened the fridge to retrieve the milk—her eyebrow arched and her lips curled upwards at the sight before her; five cartons of milk sat in the fridge, each one having a separate top of either blue, red, green, purple or orange. Her father _still_ drank a different type of milk according to his mood, and unsurprisingly the blue one—full fat—was the drunkest, with the red one—skimmed—the most full. Ash took the blue one herself and poured into her large mug.

She put into the microwave and set it for two minutes. Now she had two whole minutes with nothing to do, but she had prepared for such an occasion. When you couldn't engage in 'Human Watching' the next best thing was 'Book Reading'. Ash turned to grab her book from the counter where she had obviously placed it…

… and she had forgotten it. Ash pinched the temple of her nose; of _course_ she had forgotten her book. She didn't even know what it was about, it was just a random book she had found in the drawing room. It had been _very_ dusty, however, so god knows how long it had been in there.

What else was there now? It was one of two choices: stare at the walls until she inevitably became insane _or_ surf the internet on her phone. The Gallifreyan knew which one she would rather do. She picked her phone from her breast pocket, and then she groaned once she laid her blue hues upon the rectangular device.

The screen was cracked, the hit point being on the left-hand side halfway down the phone. It hadn't been cracked before she put it in her pocket earlier so now it was another reminder people hated her for who her father was. Maybe if they knew her grandparents were human— _wait a minute_.

There was one time, back when she first came to stay with Amy and Rory, she had gone out one Sunday morning and had not returned back to their house ( _home_ ) until nine at night the same day. All it had taken was half a foot through the threshold to receive a verbal lashing from her grandparents. The next day, they bought her a phone with the stern warning to _always_ let them know when she would be late home and _why_.

Except—she hadn't let them know she would watch a film and have dinner with her colleagues because she had _forgotten_.

So why was there not a single missed call or text message on her phone? It couldn't have been an absence of signal; besides the fact that her signal bar was full, Dad had prepared it so her phone could be operated anywhere in the universe.

There was only one way to find out. She dialled in her grandmother's mobile number and waited. She didn't have to wait long, it was picked up on scarcely the second ring.

"Amy, I—"

" _Hello, Ash."_

Ash became mute and set a palm to her eyes. What _else_ could it have been?

* * *

"You can't take her back for a while, not now."

"I didn't want to," said the Doctor. He thrust a lever down and the TARDIS took off into the vortex. It was time to leave this planet, Old Venice, and never come back.

"Are you okay?" River asked slowly. The Doctor arched an eyebrow at his wife on the stairs.

"Yes," he replied brightly. "My defenceless daughter was assaulted by a whole mob of people and will probably be bruised for a couple of weeks, and that's not even mentioning the psychological scars it could leave her with. Why _wouldn't_ I be okay?" River rose and crossed the room to settle her head on his shoulder.

"I'm okay, too," she replied.

The couple stared at the console, no words uttered between them, and their eyelids heavy. They had no need for words. Both knew what the other was thinking.

 _Her bruises. Her tears. The cut on her head. The arms wrapped around herself in defence. How small and helpless she looked._

"They hurt her," the Doctor finally said, his voice heavy with tears, "because of _me_. I wanted to keep her safe, but she was hurt again and it was because of _me_."

"It's not your fault," admonished River. "You didn't make them beat Ashleigh."

"I may as well have. They beat her because she's Gallifreyan, because she got that from _me_. The only daughter I have left, and I can't even keep her safe on a dull planet." River grabbed his upper arms and demanded direct eye contact with her husband, no matter how much he _couldn't_ face her. They had punished her baby because of him. River grabbed his chin and made him.

"You _stop that_! None of this is down to you. It happened and there's nothing but one thing we can do about it." The Doctor smiled mirthlessly, arching an eyebrow.

"And what is that?" They couldn't make it so they never arrived. There was no way to travel back in time and warn Ash before it even happened—not only would it generate a paradox, but the TARDIS would probably refuse to land in her own time stream. What left was there to do?

"Be her _parents_."

* * *

Ash sighed in content as she sipped her steaming mug of hot chocolate. She was on her third cup already, having gulped down the first and second drinks. The temptation to gulp down the third cup was strong, to the extent of being virtually overpowering. The notion of a rough stomach ache stopped her.

She put her cup down on the wooden table and traced the rim with her index finger. What did she do now? What did she do when she lived here? Watch TV, clean, prepare food that was—probably—very unhealthy, play games, exercise. It wasn't anything she didn't do now on Earth, and she didn't want to do it here. Ash knew she wouldn't even be able to work on card designs because the minute she started, her dad would linger over her shoulder and ask what she was doing.

That would have been the situation when she _wasn't_ injured. Dad would be a hundred times more insufferable now. He meant well, Ash knew, but she was grown up enough now to not want her father maintaining an eye on her at every second.

The only choice was to sleep. She didn't _require_ a nap, but the nausea was bubbling in her stomach. Another bitter reminder that someone had been so frightened of her they threw a huge rock at her to feel protected.

Ash glanced to the now half-empty cup and over to the microwave. Just one more cup and she would take shelter in one of the many bedrooms. Having a few hours of sleep would assure that even if Dad were to watch her like an overprotective and neurotic hawk it wouldn't bother her.

"What are you doing here?" _Or_ perhaps not. "I told you—plenty of bed rest."

"You never said right away," Ash reasoned She was awarded his 'Dad Look' for her troubles, and she smiled sheepishly. Dad carried it even as he sat down. His eyes wandered down to the cup she had her palms folded protectively around.

"How many?" Ash noticed the room was, suddenly, very interesting.

"... Three." Dad blew a heavy sigh through his nose and confiscated the half-drunken hot chocolate. Ash wouldn't protest; she was old enough to know better these days.

"Bed, _now_ ," ordered Dad. "You need to rest, not drink your body weight in sugar." An impish smile curved his lips. "Size of you, though, it won't take long."

" _Oi_ ," Ash cautioned but she was smiling, too. She picked at one of her nails and cast her eyes down as she admitted, "I was only going to have one more."

"That would be three too many. How long have you been in here?"

"I don't know, I don't time myself," said Ash curtly. The 'Dad Look' broke out again and Ash's shoulders hunched. "Possibly about twenty minutes." She dared to establish eye contact, appearing sheepish again. "Twenty minutes too long?"

"That's right," affirmed Dad. "You shouldn't be pushing yourself. You need to _rest_."

" _I'm not pushing myself by having hot chocolate,"_ was what Ash _wanted_ to say. "… Fine," is what she realised she had to say. "But I'm walking there," she continued when Dad rose and reached out to her, presumably to pick her up again.

Dad ignored her and swept her into his arms, anyway.

" _Dad_!" Ash squealed. "I said I can—"

"I know, I know," said Dad, sounding apologetic. "Let me take care of you. Please."

Ash knew the reason, and it wasn't because she was his daughter. Silence settled between them as Ash let herself be brought back to her room. Dad walked as though he bore the most precious of cargo in his arms.

Once they had reached her former room, Dad laid her down on the four-poster bed. Ash's hand flew to her chest pocket, and she fished out her phone. Dad's eyebrows furrowed, and he took the phone from her hand, inspecting the object.

"I'm sorry about your phone, Ash. Do you want me to fix it?"

 _Because then Amy and Rory wouldn't ask how it got smashed in the first place?_ Her father couldn't hear her thoughts, but Ash's gut churned in shame for considering it.

"Sure," said Ash, shrugging. "I don't want a new one." She shifted onto her side, facing away from Dad. Silence fell once, and this time it wasn't as comfortable as the previous. Ash felt the bed move as Dad sat on it. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay? Besides—well, you _know_."

Ash didn't bother to answer.

"Yeah, you're right," said Dad. "Stupid question." He removed his hand and looked around the room. "I've been keeping the room tidy. I know you hate a mess." Again, Ash did not reply. "I even—"

"Dad!" Ash snapped. "I'm sorry, but how am I supposed to sleep when you keep talking?"

"Fair enough," Dad apologised. "I can help you sleep."

"… All right." Ash hated her dad poking around in her mind but right now, she hated him trying to find ways to keep a dead conversation alive. She would tolerate one evil to defeat the other. Ash turned to face her father, who put his hands up to her temple.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Mm-hm."

Dad's fingers brushed the edge of her forehead. All went black, and the last thing Ash knew of were gentle arms laying her head onto the pillow.

" _If you're really a Time Lord, or Time Lady, or whatever, then why don't you prove it? Where's your TARDIS?"_

" _I'm not a Time Lady," she corrected the teasing boy. "I'm Gallifreyan."_

" _Isn't that the same thing?"_

" _No, not even close."_

 _The scene faded, the boy turning to dust in front of her eyes. She was surprised to find out she wasn't surprised. She had expected it. It was only natural in a place like this. Before long, the sapphire bluegrass and the rose-tinted skies emerged once more—but this time, a blue box materialised on the horizon._

 _He was here. She was beginning to think he would never come back for her. The young brunette child slithered up to the box and sheltered herself behind a berry bush. The element of surprise was hers._

 _There was the creak of the door, a noise she hadn't realised she had missed and a man—a man who looked nothing like her father—stepped out. The thick, curling hair had been replaced by… nothing. There was only a small head of hair. She wove a finger through her own curling hair._

 _The sense of grace and elegance his outfit once screamed was now a leather jacket. A leather jacket? No, this couldn't have been him. He would never have worn just a leather jacket, not in a thousand years._ _There was only one rational conclusion._

 _Someone had stolen her daddy's TARDIS. She did not understand how or why, but it had happened, and by a man with no sense of style._

 _The little Gallifreyan pressed her hands onto the ground, ready to pounce and confront the man, and then he began to talk. She paused, curious what a dirty thief could ever say. Was he about to admit why?_

" _No, no, no!" He yelled, almost striking the TARDIS. That made her blood boil. "Why have you brought me here? I can't—you know I can't! She's safer here!"_

' _She'? Who was this 'she' he referred to?_

 _Then, to her horror, all became dust again. She clamped her eyes shut. She didn't care or not if the dirty thief crumbled into dust, but it would have crushed her hearts to witness the TARDIS fall in such a manner._

 _When she reopened her eyes, she knew where she was. She was in the TARDIS even though it was one she had never stepped foot in before._ _To her right, an old man with one arm stretched cautiously out like she would bite him. The expression on his face was the same, his eyes wide and his eyebrows—were those attack eyebrows?—raised up. He was staring at her like he had never seen her before._

 _She was trembling. She was weeping. Her hearts throbbed. She didn't know why._

" _You," she heard herself saying. She sounded years older, but she knew it was her voice. It was unmistakable. It was also trembling as much as her hand was._ " _You should never have been allowed on this TARDIS."_

 _She was holding a laser gun, and it was pointed at a woman, clad in Edwardian style attire, who did not look frightened, or cautious, or any emotion you might expect someone to be when meeting the barrel of a gun._

 _The woman was tickled. She even giggled._

" _And, what? You're going to shoot me? Where does the Doctor's sweet little daughter get herself a gun?"_

" _It doesn't matter!" It was a market. She had drifted away from Dad and Clara (who was Clara?) and had purchased a gun. She always knew she would need it for this reason._

" _Ashleigh..." spoke the elderly man, and right away she realised it was her father. Only her father and her mother called her Ashleigh, and her mother was remarkably busy being dead. "Lay the gun down." He spoke to her like she was crazy._

 _She was._

" _Don't you care what your daddy will think of you?" the woman inquired. She sounded pleased, as though she wished her father to think badly of his daughter._

 _She dared to look at her father. She thought her entire resolve would collapse when she did._

" _I've known for years what he thinks of me. Why should I care now?" The attack eyebrows on her father raised even further, surprise and sorrow in his eyes._

" _Because that's precisely why you're doing this, dear!" the woman retorted, and now she was grinning. "You could have easily waited until we were alone. But you waited until we were here, in the console room, and so that the Doctor would see. You want him to see you're not a scared little girl."_

" _That's not—"_

" _Except that's not correct, is it? If you weren't a scared little girl you wouldn't be pointing some cheap gun at me!" The woman shrieked with laughter, and she had more of a need to pull the trigger._

" _Ashleigh," her father began, drawing two steps closer. "Give me the gun."_

" _She won't," declared the woman, looking smug. "She craves attention from dear old Daddy." Her voice became mocking and her bottom lip stuck out like a teasing child's would._

" _Shut up!" she wailed, waving the gun at her. "You think you know me, but you don't!"_

" _Your poor wife," the woman announced, and all became icy. Her face became as white as snow._

"… _What did you say?"_

" _Your poor wife, left to rot to in some dirty and damp alley."_

"Ash! _Ash_! Ashleigh!"

Her eyes shot open, and she was calmed to discover she was in her former bedroom. She _wasn't standing_ in a foreign console room, with a foreign Doctor and woman, with a _gun in_ her hands. Her view shifted to tweed as Dad yanked her into a paternal embrace. Ash allowed herself to gaze up to her father.

He _wasn't_ an old man, at least not in appearance, and his eyebrows could never threaten attack. His hair, like hers, was brown, and not white like the elderly Doctor in her dream had been. Was that who her father was to grow into?

"It's okay," said her father as he pressed a flurry of kisses to her hair. "You were just having a nightmare."

Is that what it was? Ash wasn't certain that's what it was.

"Come on, Ash. Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make you another hot chocolate."

" _Your poor wife, left to rot_ _to in some dirty and damp alley."_

Would that be the fate of a woman if she one day married? Ash hoped it never would be. She would never marry.

* * *

The day had come. Ash stepped away from the confines of the TARDIS into the fresh air of England, into the alleyway her father had abducted her from. It was _freeing_. She drew a big breath of air.

The sky was much lighter than before, however. Or was she remembering it wrong? It had been so long since she had returned to England.

"Exactly the time we left," said Dad, standing in the doorway of the TARDIS. He was smiling, but it was miles from reaching his eyes. "No one will have noticed you even left." Ash had even dressed in the clothes she had been wearing that day.

"You mean, was kidnapped," corrected Ash.

"Oi, don't go telling people I kidnapped you," her father softly admonished.

"I won't," Ash agreed. She stepped forward to wrap her arms around her father. "It was nice to see you again. It was kind of like the old days." Her father's arms were tight around her, and he kissed her forehead.

"You go straight home. No detours." Ash rolled her eyes.

"You're as bad as Amy and Rory." Dad sniffed and straightened his bow-tie.

"Where do you think I got it from?"

Ash didn't watch as the TARDIS dematerialised. She had seen that enough for one lifetime. The noise cracked her hearts as she strode away. There was not a single peer back. That was the rule.

She turned from the alleyway and back onto the street. Ash kept her head bowed, her eyes on the path. No distractions. Straight home. She ignored the dalmatian dog across the street being walked. That cat relaxing on a brick wall? It didn't exist.

It was fortuitous she had only been five minutes away from her home all that time ago. How wrong she had been.

Ash's eyes caught sight of the royal blue door and she prevented herself from bursting into a sprint. She still hurt, and it would have appeared unusual. She inserted her key in the lock and nudged the door wide.

"I'm home!" she announced. Now it was time to face the repercussions of being out all evening without calling ahead. She remained in the hallway, awaiting the disappointed voices to reprimand her.

But they never arrived. Ash scrunched her nose and stepped into the living room. It was unoccupied. Looking ahead into the kitchen affirmed the same, and so was the garden. Then, Ash saw it.

The time was only a quarter to five. A knowing laugh escaped her lips, and she brought a palm to her forehead. It was unavoidable that her father would get the right day but the _wrong time_. The lack of calls and texts from her grandparents over her absence all made sense now.

A mobile buzzed. Ash rotated on her heel towards the sound and she discovered her grandmother's mobile on the coffee table, the name _Ash_ displayed as it rang. A grin twisted her cheeks, and she picked the phone up to answer it.

" _Amy, I—"_

"Hello, Ash."


End file.
